


Drunken Bets are the Best Bets

by Venstar



Series: 2020 007 Fest Works [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Other, fest prompt fill, i just came here for a good time, it is what it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venstar/pseuds/Venstar
Summary: for stormofsharpthings collab prompt fill: Q arrives at Bond’s place through an unexpected rainstorm and Bond has to dress him his own clothes to wear back to MI6. from an anon prompt fill along with One night when drunk, Eve and Q make an interesting bet from an anonymous 2017 prompt fill.
Relationships: Eve Moneypenny & Q
Series: 2020 007 Fest Works [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809820
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21
Collections: 007 Fest Fancreations





	Drunken Bets are the Best Bets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storm_of_sharp_things](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/gifts).



“Moneypenny, I think I’ve had enough,” Q said, his words slurring just a bit. 

Moneypenny squinted at him over her own glass. “Mmmm. Maybe, but you still have cards to play.”

“Oh, right. Well...what are we betting on this round?”

“What do you value?”

“You can NOT have my gaming system.”

Moneypenny laughed, her wine sloshing in her glass. “No. No, I don’t want your gaming system.”

“Or my cats. They're off the table.”

Moneypenny wrinkled her nose. “I do NOT want your cats either Q, think of all the horrible things they’ll do to my shoes! My clothes!”

“They’re perfectly well-behaved. Unlike some other people.” Q grumbled. “Well, hurry up make your bet or I’m going home.”

“What I want is…”

Q looked up at her, oh no this didn’t bode well. “Now, now, don’t go all…”

“Your reputation.’

“I beg your pardon.” Q bolted upright, his wine almost making an appearance on Moneypenny’s sofa.

“How about you put your reputation on the line.”

“Moneypenny I’m not going to make ill-working equipment if that’s what you have in mind. That’d be close to treason as to any other reason for treason! Reason for treason. That rhymes. I’m going to have to use that.”

“No, silly. The bet shall be...the loser will have to show up to work wearing…”

“My word, if you say naked I will have you killed.”

“A piece of one of the 00’s clothing and NOT their shoes or socks. And they have to wear it ALL day.”

Q started laughing. “A piece of a 00’s clothing! Oh, Moneypenny. You are on! I’ll take that bet. I can’t wait to see you show up wearing one of 004’s hideous ties.”

Moneypenny laughed at the image. “Oh God, in that case maybe I’ll choose his boxers. Come on Q, show me your hand.”

Q slapped his cards on the table and his stomach dropped to his feet at the cackling sound that broke through the dam of Moneypenny’s mouth. Oh, dear.

“A royal flush beats a full house, my dear. Looks like you lose and it’s to the 00’s closet for you! Moneypenny crowed as she revealed her hand. 

“Damn. Double damn. You fiend!”

“Never go in against a Sicilian when pants are on the line!”

Q slouched back on her sofa. “How on earth am I supposed to get a piece of clothing from one of those berks?”

Moneypenny’s eyebrows danced about her head. “Oh, I think you’ll find a way. What was it Ursula said? Something about body language?” She ducked as one of the sofa pillows went flying past her.

It was only a week later and Q was fretting about fulfilling the bet with Moneypenny. He’d been so busy trying to extract 007 from South America that he hadn’t given too much thought to their bet, but now here he was. It was his last day or else she’d give him THAT look and make a squawking noise like a chicken and if there were two things Q didn’t like, it was being given that look and having someone squawk at him. She’d do it in public too. There was nothing to it. He’d have to start planning. Whose clothes could he borrow? If the agents noticed him squinting at them more than usual, they said nothing. It wasn’t until 009 started preening a little too much that maybe Q had better stare at a wall as he contemplated whose clothes were the easy target.

“Blast and double damn!” Q muttered as he dashed his way through the downpour that suddenly unleashed itself from the clouds that had gathered earlier that day and hadn’t left. 

Q hadn’t left for home until 007 had been retrieved and this was the first time he’d been able to leave the office. He desperately needed a change of clothes. He stopped. “Fuck. I could have just asked one of them for a parka or something...blast it!” Q stomped his foot and swiped his hand through his rain-soaked hair. He could go back. Lie about something forgotten. Surely there’d be an agent lying about somewhere with a parka or trench he could have. He made an about-face at the wrong and right time. 

Someone grabbed his arm and a car pulled up next to him as he steadied himself. He felt the splash of water along the back of his legs. The man he had run into grinned down at him. A scar went from his chin to his left eyebrow, it twisted his smile and the eye was badly damaged. 

“That was easy,” the man whispered. He pushed Q backward and someone caught him from behind.

It was probably wrong of Q to think about stealing an article of clothing from one of these guys and passing it off for a 00’s wasn’t it? 

“I’m afraid you’ll find I’m anything but easy,” Q whispered. He twisted the ring on his right hand and slapped it against the man holding him. 

“Ow! Oi, fuck!” The man cried out in pain. 

Before Q could get another whack at him or run away, he was spun around and backhanded in the face. His laptop bag carried him awkwardly around until he was facing his first assailant who charged at him now that he realized Q wasn’t so helpless as he looked. The telltale thud of a body hitting the floor behind him told him that his ‘Poison Ring’ as R liked to call it had worked. Perfect. Unfortunately, he only had the one dose in it and the first assailant was staring at his right hand. A bit not good, but also a bit not bad. Q shook that hand out to the side, distracting the man who made a lunge to trap Q’s right hand. He never saw the ballpoint pen coming for him.

Q stood panting on the pavement, dripping wet and surrounded by a crime scene. “Ah well.” He pulled out his mobile and walked away. 

“Q?” Tanner spoke his name softly with a question.

“I’m afraid there’s been a bit of an incident…” His voice trailed off as he stepped into the alcove of a still open bar with few patrons remaining in it. Some privacy in a public space. He finished hashing out the details with Tanner who dispatched a clean up crew and the closest agent. 

Q’s hands finally began to shake when he ended the conversation. He went into the bar and that’s where 007 found him, nursing a beer at the far corner. They said almost nothing to each other except for the coded message that ensured Q he was safe. Although in 007’s presence he routinely felt safe, it was only for his equipment that he worried about. 007’s eyes traveled across his face and Q could feel his eyes drawing the borders of where he was sure to be developing an amazing technicolor bruise.

“You should see the other guy,” Q quipped before 007 could say anything that sounded like pity.

Q left a few bills on the bartop and followed 007 out the door, down the block, and around the corner to his waiting car. Q sighed at the sight. The vintage Aston Martin always took his breath away. It was amazing that 007 managed to win it on assignment and then had been allowed to keep it, never mind the cost of shipping it over. They slid into the vehicle and 007 pulled away from the curb.

“I thought you were in medical.” Q began without prelude as he snapped his seatbelt in place.

“I was, which made me the closest agent available to extract you.” 007 said as he shifted gears and kept an eye on his surroundings checking the mirrors for trouble.

Q sighed. “Surely there was a field agent available for this.”

“A field agent? For the Quartermaster of MI6?”

“They should have let you rest.” 

“No rest for the wicked, so I hear.”

Q leaned his head back on the headrest. “No, I guess not. We’ll sleep when we’re dead won’t we.”

007 laughed. “You consider yourself part of the ‘wicked’ group then?”

Q allowed his head to loll to the side and stare up at 007. “You can still have blood on your hand just by pressing a button while sitting around in your pajamas before the first cup of Earl Grey.”

007’s eyes glanced from the road to his and back. “So it would seem.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence, the heater of the Aston Martin warming the air in between them. Q shivered in his wet things. 

“This isn’t my place,” Q said as they pulled into off-street parking. 

“No. It’s mine.” 007 said before putting the car into park, turning off the engine and exiting. 

Q fumbled for the door handle and lurched ungracefully out. He was cold, stiff and his face hurt.

“Tanner thought it would be best. Whoever they were, they knew one of your routines. It would be safe to assume they knew where you lived.” 007 kept walking, leading Q through the building and up several flights of stairs until they reached a hall with two doors. “They’ll give the all-clear once it’s safe. Shouldn’t be but a couple of days.”

“A couple of DAYS!” Q said, shocked. He stood frozen on the spot. “I could have stayed at a safe house, there was no reason to impose upon you for that amount of time!” For God’s sake, the man had just gotten back from a month away on a mission and the last several days had been actual hell.

007 put his key to the door. A key. A literal, old-fashioned...godforsaken grandfatherly piece of equipment. Q screwed up his nose at the peasantry of it all. 

“I would have had to stay with you. This was the better of the two options. Now, stop fussing like an old lady and quit glaring at my key, you technological snob.” 007 pushed the door open and smiled over his shoulder as he walked into his flat.

Q sniffed. “I could rig you something so much more elegant than key access.”

“I can hear the disdain dripping from your voice.” 007’s voice became fainter as he walked away and down a hall.

“Yes, well that’s not the only thing dripping,” Q muttered. He was looking around to see where he could put down his wet things without causing a huge mess that someone would have to clean later. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be an awful lot of dust bunnies lounging about waiting to turn into mud. He squawked as a towel was suddenly draped over his head and then given a vigorous rub. He swatted at his new assailant's hands. “I can do it, ger off!”

"You can leave your wet things in the bathroom. I’ll find something for you to wear. It might be a little ill-fitting about the edges. We’re almost the same height but you’re half my size.”

Q muttered darkly under his breath about sizes and egos and the nerve of some people as he made his way to the bathroom. A tidy little room covered in white and grey marble tile with a small built-in shower, toilet, and white vanity covered in various products, toothpaste, and one lone toothbrush. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was all very soothing. There was even a bright yellow rubber duck sporting a Union Jack sitting on the small windowsill. He grinned at that. It was very tempting to explore the other man’s products as he undressed. He did sniff at the aftershave, he couldn’t help it, it looked so expensive, just like the man who wore it.

There came a knock on the door and Q opened it to find 007 standing in the hall with a wad of clothing. Q pretended not to notice the quick admiring glance those blue eyes made. Those same eyes darted around to the small scars that were scattered over his torso and the burn marks on his arm. It was at those that he frowned at. 

“I only play a mild-mannered boffin on television, 007.”

At those softly spoken words, 007 looked up. “James.”

“I beg your pardon?” Q held his hand out and the clothes were pressed into it. 

“We’re not in the office. You can call me James. I’ll still call you Q unless you have another preference?”

"No. Thank you, James.” Q nodded his head and disappeared back into the bathroom. 

He emerged a few minutes later wearing a pair of track pants and a black T-shirt. The length was fine, they were just a bit loose about the rest of him as James hinted at. It was difficult to even think of the man as James. Q shook his head, that’s why you don’t name the sheep. Q let that dark thought pass through his mind and he shivered at the ugliness of it.

“Cold sill?”

“What? No.” Q said James was in his little kitchen tapping his fingers on the counter.

“I’m making toast. It’s all I have at the moment.”

“Oh. No, I’m fine, thank you.”

“I’ve made the bed, you can have that and I’ll kip on the couch.” James caught the toast as it popped up at the end of his sentence.

“That’s absurd. I’m not the one just back and freshly injured!”

James rolled his eyes as he slathered the toast with butter. “If you think the couch is worse than what I just went through, then you’ve not been at MI6 very long.”

“It’s just not right. Taking an old man’s bed from him.” Q teased. At least that got a grin out of James.

“It’ll be okay. Go to bed, this old man can take care of himself on the couch for a few nights. I left something for you to wear on the bed tomorrow. I rang Tanner, he’ll see about getting something for you from your place. He did say you kept a few spares at work so you should be okay.”

“That’s awfully kind of you. Well...then...goodnight?” Q finished awkwardly and turned to find his sleeping place for the night. As promised, there was a neatly folded set of MI6 athletic wear on the bed. He grinned at the handwritten name in permanent marker across the top-left chest. ‘BOND’ “Does this mean I’m property of?”

James turned around and glanced at where Q was pointing. He grinned when he saw his name. “Maybe.”

The morning came and Q dressed and prepared to leave, James had been up and had offered Q the only thing he had in his kitchen. Toast. Q waved him off. He’d get something from the canteen, no sense wasting James’s meager stash of food. He also offered to get some takeout that night as a thank you, but James had only scoffed at the idea. 

“I’m home now, on medical leave. There will be plenty of time for me to put on my human skin and shop. Do you need a ride into work?”

“Look at us, being all domestic,” Q said, batting his eyes at James. “Do you think we’ll fight later?”

“Oh, most definitely. Q, do you need a ride?”

“No, Tanner texted, he’s sent a car.” Q pretended not to notice the slight sad face on James’s face. As if he really would have liked to have dropped Q off at work. He exited the flat as quickly as he could. No time for sad faces.

Q was whistling as he entered Q branch later than usual due to his unusual circumstances and nearly jumped out of his skin when Moneypenny came leaping out of his office.

“Where have you been!”

“OI! Ease up there, Mrs. Weasley!” Q placed his hand over his pounding heart. 

“Don’t you Mrs. Weasley me!”

Before she could really get going, her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she finally took in what Q was wearing. She pointed at his chest and then poked her perfectly manicured finger into BOND’s name. 

“Where did you get that!?” She hissed at him.

“Oh, this old thing?” He brushed his hand nonchalantly down his sleeve. “I got it from another old thing.” 

Moneypenny’s mouth dropped.

“I believe I won our bet...old girl.”


End file.
